


Possession

by AirgiodSLV



Series: Possession [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-26
Updated: 2003-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-20 09:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: The child’s teeth were white, just like his face, and his canines were pointed, too long to be human.





	1. Desmodontidae

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Trudy and Cyndi for editing.
> 
> Vampiric AU, with everything that implies.

Part One – Dominic

 

“Dom, come quick, Mackenzie’s found something out by the barn!”

Dominic dropped the piece of harness he had been mending and followed Sean out the front door. He grabbed his coat from the hook on the way; it was the middle of winter, and the weather was cold enough to freeze.

It was snowing again; the cold flakes found their way inside his coat as he shrugged it on, clung to the hem of his pants and found their way into his boots. He hoped that whatever Mackenzie had found didn’t feel the cold.

They found Mackenzie right by the barn doors, kneeling in the snow beside a dark shadow cast across the frosted ground. It looked like a cloak, but was losing shape beneath the falling snow.

“What did you find, then?” Dominic asked, stomping some of the extra snow from his clothing and crouching beside Sean’s brother.

“Merciful Christ,” Sean whispered as Mackenzie held the lantern closer to the shape. “It’s a lad.”

Dominic winced, looking at the pale, bloodless face peeking out of the cloak, snowflakes tangling in the dark hair. “I think it may be too late for this one,” he said reluctantly, rubbing his hands together to chafe them back into life against the frigid air. “He looks as if he’s been out here for a while.”

“No, he’s alive,” Mackenzie corrected, but the same reluctance was in his voice.

“What are we waiting for, then? Get him inside,” Sean snapped. “He won’t make it for much longer if we leave him out here.”

Sean started back towards the house; Mackenzie lifted a hand. “Wait.”

Dominic breathed onto his hands, eyes still fixed on that pale face. So young…

“I don’t think we want to do that, Sean.” Mackenzie ran his hand over the white cheek, one thumb gently parting the bloodless lips. Dominic closed his eyes for a moment and prayed. When he opened them, Sean was swearing and Mackenzie looked grim, and Dominic’s prayers hadn’t been answered.

The child’s teeth were white, just like his face, and his canines were pointed, too long to be human.

“How did he get all the way out here?” Dominic asked rhetorically. “We’re in a protected demesne.”

“I don’t think that he cares,” Mackenzie answered, removing his fingers and allowing the boy’s lips to slide shut. “He probably doesn’t even know. Look at him,” he continued, gesturing to the frail white form on the ground. “He’s nothing but skin over bones.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sean asked, leaning over to peer at the ill-wrapped figure. “Why is he out here?”

“He’s starving to death,” Dominic answered, looking to Mackenzie for grim confirmation. “That’s why.”

Sean bounced a little in place, trying to stay warm. “How could a vampire be starving to death? Even in a protected demesne there are hunting rights. What kind of vampire refuses to feed?”

“A vampire that doesn’t know he is one,” Dominic said quietly, saw Mackenzie’s nod. “I think we’ve got an orphan.”

Sean opened his mouth, and Dominic saw the question change just before it left his lips. “So what are you going to do with him?”

Dominic looked back at the young face, sharp cheekbones standing out from a face that was almost too alien for beauty. “What I ought to do,” he replied calmly, “is kill him, before he figures it out.”

Mackenzie didn’t move, didn’t speak. Sean waited a moment before responding.

“That wasn’t the question, though.”

“No,” Dominic agreed. “It wasn’t.”

Dominic nodded at Mackenzie, who made no sound of protest, simply gathered the slender body to himself and lifted it out of the snow.

“What I’m going to do,” he answered Sean as Mackenzie set off towards the house, “is find him something to drink.”

 

~*~

 

The boy was dying. Dominic fought the admission even as he admitted defeat. Too young, too cold, and too hungry. Unless he made a kill, he wasn’t going to live.

Mackenzie appeared in the doorway, looked for a long, silent moment at the boy on the bed, skin bleached to the same color as the sheets and raw-spun blankets that covered him. Dominic understood that he didn’t really approve, even though Mackenzie hadn’t said a word. And wouldn’t, Dominic knew. But Mackenzie had seen too much of vampires to ever espouse saving one from the snow.

“He’s not drinking?”

Dominic sat back in his bedside chair, weary from playing nursemaid to a sick immortal. “No,” he answered quietly. The boy had woken once or twice, but too lethargic and apathetic to save himself. He had shown only blank incomprehension at the goat that Dominic had offered, and revulsion when Dom cut the animal’s throat himself in the hope that the scent of fresh blood would stir the boy’s instincts.

“He’ll die, then.” There was no recrimination in Mackenzie’s voice, only a neutral question.

“If his kind can,” Dominic replied, reaching with one hand to cover the boy’s wrist, feeling the bones jutting out and scraping together beneath the paper-white skin. “I’ve never heard of one starving naturally. Usually someone finishes the job properly.” He sighed, running a hand over his face and grimacing at how dirty he felt. “Needless to say, there are ways to kill an immortal.”

“I know.” Mackenzie took a step closer, reached down to touch the boy’s hair, feel the temperature of his forehead. “What will you do?”

Dominic closed his eyes, desperate for a bath and a full night’s sleep; knowing that if he did as he planned, he wouldn’t have either of those for some time. Mackenzie waited patiently for his answer, and Dominic saw the boy’s face against his closed eyelids.  
“Take him to Viggo,” he whispered.

 

~*~

 

Dominic looked up at the heavy gates, almost regretting his decision. He had no desire to be this close to the chateau, had never come here before. The very doorway was intimidating, blocks of carved stone looming over him, casting shadows in the moonlight. The boy was in his arms, bundled against the cold, a burden that worried him because it weighed so little. At one point on the journey the boy had squirmed closer, seeking the heat of Dominic’s body, and he had felt the brush of soft lips against his neck.

One of the servants answered the door, sneering a little at Dominic’s rough-spun clothing. “I’m here to see your master,” Dominic announced firmly, trying to hide his shiver of cold and fear behind an authoritative and brisk demeanor.

The servant opened his mouth to speak, but a voice from inside said softly, “Let him in, John.” With a slight but respectful bow, the servant stepped back and held the door open for him to enter. Dominic hefted the bundle in his arms, adjusting it and reassuring himself that the boy was still breathing shallowly, still faintly warm.

The man who had spoken was watching them, narrowed eyes raking Dominic and the burden he carried. He smiled, thin-lipped, and turned; heeled boots clacking against the wood floor of the hall and echoing off the bare walls as he walked away. “If you please, Sir,” the servant intoned with an air of bored aristocratic condescension, one arm stiffly held out to suggest that Dominic follow the retreating figure.  
The main hall seemed to stretch on forever, coluna-torsae spiraling up from the floor to disappear high in the clerestory, delicate strapwork scrolling along the bases of the columns. Dominic’s shoulders ached; once again he pulled the boy closer to his chest and tried to calm the frantic beating of his own heart.

He found his host waiting in a study at the end of the hall, in front of a roaring fireplace. His skin gleamed in the light, unnatural and hypnotizing. He gestured to the couch, crooked his lips in amusement. “You may set your gift down over there, if you wish,” he offered, eyes glittering. “I assume that’s what it is.”

Dominic’s throat was too dry to speak; he swallowed and licked his lips. The vampire regarding him shook his head, tutting in a mockery of human embarrassment. “How thoughtless of me. Wine?”

Dominic watched with wide eyes as the dark red liquid was poured, raised it to his lips and then hesitated, eyeing the crystal and his vampiric host.

“It’s nothing more than wine, I assure you,” Viggo reassured him, smiling again at Dominic’s uncertainty. “I wouldn’t keep anything else.”  
Dominic drank, gulping the entire glass before he lost his nerve. He licked his lips again, catching the last few beads of wine as they collected on his bottom lip.

“So tell me,” Viggo began, leaning casually against the end table. “What brings you to my chateau?”

Dominic swallowed, reminded himself not to show weakness. “That,” he replied, inclining his head briefly towards the couch where the boy lay. “I’m turning him over to you.”

Viggo walked the few steps to the couch, pulled the blankets back from the pale, cold face. “What’s this?” he asked softly, narrowed eyes drinking in the boy’s skin, his bone structure, the sharp angles of hunger. “An immortal, uninvited, in my demesne?” He looked back at Dominic, a smile still touching the corners of carved lips. “Interesting.”

“I didn’t bring him as a blood sacrifice,” Dominic warned, acting in spite of his fear to preserve the life in his charge. “I brought him to ask for your sanctuary. On his behalf.”

“I see.” Viggo ran a fine-boned finger over the boy’s cheekbone, traced the sharp jaw. “What makes you think I will grant it?”

“He’s one of your own,” Dominic responded after a surprised pause, caught off-guard. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Is he?” Viggo twisted a strand of black hair between his fingers, looked up suddenly and smiled. Dominic turned in the direction he was looking; saw a slender figure hovering in the doorway. “Ah. Come here, child. I was wondering when you’d take an interest.”

The young man glided into the room, light shifting to define his outline and warm his skin to a soft glow. He moved to stand beside Viggo, ignoring Dominic after a cursory appraising glance in favor of the boy on the couch. “Who is he?” the young man asked, bending enough that a dark curl came loose from its ribbon to brush his cheek. This wasn’t a vampire, Dominic knew. The skin was too dark, the grace still too fluidly human.

“I don’t know.” Viggo glanced up at Dominic, smiled dangerously and looked back at the youth. “Do you want him?”

The young man frowned slightly, shook his curls back from his face and reached to brush a single fingertip over the boy’s lips. “Yes,” he said softly. “I think I do.”

“Come here then, Orlando,” Viggo ordered, voice laced with amusement and affection. The young man knelt on the carpet obediently, and Viggo glanced back at Dominic. “He hasn’t fed, I assume?” Viggo asked, and Dominic shook his head mutely. “I thought not. He’ll need to kill, but first let’s get him back on his feet. If you would be so kind…”

Orlando tugged at his burgundy cravat, unraveling the simple knot and pulling the cloth away from his throat. Viggo brushed his fingers over the tan skin, making the young man purr, eyelids drooping as Dominic watched, wide-eyed. Viggo reversed his direction abruptly, letting the back of his hand glide over the bared skin, and then one of his elegant fingernails scratched, quick and efficient, across Orlando’s throat. Dominic started, half-ready to intervene, but froze when he saw that Orlando hadn’t moved; was gazing rapt at the pale boy on the couch.

The blood welled, slowly at first; bright red against olive skin, and Viggo lifted the unconscious boy from his prone position, cradled him against Orlando’s throat. “Drink, young one,” he crooned, and Dominic held his breath as the boy’s lips moved, barely brushing against the broken skin. A tongue appeared, pink and moist, to lap at the liquid it was offered. Orlando inhaled sharply as the boy’s lips pursed, beginning to suck at the freely bleeding wound.

“Not too much,” Viggo warned, one hand on the back of Orlando’s head to hold him steady against the boy’s assault. Orlando moaned softly, eyelids fluttering, and Dominic stood mesmerized by the rapture on his face as the boy fed on him.

“That’s enough,” Viggo stated after another moment of stillness, the only sounds in the room Dominic’s labored breathing and the boy’s sucking; the soft noises coming from Orlando. He gently pulled the boy away, kept an arm out to steady Orlando as he swayed slightly in place. The young vampire settled back into his cocoon of blankets, sighing contentedly, a rosy flush stealing over his ivory cheeks.

“Come on, child.” Viggo easily lifted Orlando off the floor, supporting him against one shoulder and wrapping an arm possessively around the young man’s waist. He smiled at Dominic, who stood frozen in the center of the room. “He’ll be safe, now,” Viggo assured him. “Sanctuary is granted. I trust you’ll see yourself out?”

Dominic nodded, and Viggo turned away, Orlando’s head resting limply against his shoulder. Dominic watched them leave, still in shock at what he had witnessed. He eventually returned to himself and crept across the carpet, looking warily on the innocent face of the boy he had saved from the snow. “You’re with your own kind now,” he whispered to the sleeping immortal, and wondered at the flare of sudden jealousy. “Don’t be afraid.”

The air outside was just as cold as he remembered it, but for some reason Dominic found it easier to breathe. With one last look back at the chateau, he stepped outside of the gates and trudged home.

 


	2. Desmodontidae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Trudy and Cyndi for editing. My apologies for taking so long to post this. Kindly blame the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra.

Part Two – Elijah

 

Elijah floated. His world existed in cold and pain, and occasionally light; not enough to warm but enough to hurt his eyes. He never opened them, but it felt as if the light were burning through his eyelids, turning them clear and bright; blinding radiance.

Then there were the voices, far away as if caught on the wind and carried to his ears, and the burning feeling of being touched, foreign hands rubbing greasy streaks across his skin. He wanted to flinch away but couldn’t; assaulted by smells and sounds and the glare of light.

Finally there was the liquid. Sweet and hot, burning its way down his throat and into his body. He craved it, this liquid, and every day he came a little closer to waking, to opening his eyes and discovering what this delicious drink was so that he could obtain more. And the blessed dark, surrounding and enveloping him, holding him safe from the pain of the light.

Eventually he roused enough to open his eyes, and through the blur of the world he found someone waiting for him.

“It’s time,” whispered the presence, voice like gravel or the scrape of a sharpened blade, and Elijah rose and followed.

The moonlight was a shock after the sanctity of the darkness, but Elijah’s eyes adjusted, almost able to focus. His senses were still fuzzy; sounds slurred and unfamiliar, scents overpowering and foreign, the world a kaleidoscope of blurred colour. But still he followed, blindly, through the labyrinth of close-knit houses to a wilder area peppered with slum shacks.

“There,” the voice murmured in his ear, and Elijah entered as he was bid, into a tiny structure of rotted wood and rusted nails with a single occupant.

His thoughts became more jumbled after that, because it was here, what he wanted, and he was desperate in his search for it. His hands clasped warm pliant matter, and he was vaguely aware of noise, of someone shouting, but by then his attention was focused on one thing, and he knew how to get it.

His teeth broke through the vessel to get to its contents, and then he was sighing, relaxing into the warmth he held and cradling it to him as he drank, the shouts receding without becoming any clearer. He drank as if in a trance, and when he was sated he turned to follow the other again, back to the darkness and the warmth.

Night after night he went; followed the presence into the moonlight in search of liquid to quench his thirst before returning to the silent darkness of sleep.

It felt as if he had been doing this forever.

And then one day the blur faded, sharpened; the world came into focus. And Elijah’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, velvet and silk falling away from his body where he rested in a satin-lined box.

He was awake.

 

~*~

 

Elijah wandered barefoot down the hallways, through rooms that dizzied him with their elaborate designs and draperies, across flowering pietra dura floors. He wasn’t sure of exactly what he was looking for, was content to simply soak up his surroundings and search out the one who had led him, night after night. There was something important about his existence here that he couldn’t grasp; something about the moonlit journeys that was hovering just out of reach.

His nose caught the smell of roasted meat and he paused, sniffing until he was certain of the direction of origin. He passed through more rooms, all elegantly furnished and decorated, until he found what he supposed he must have been looking for.

The other sat there, at the head of a rich banquet table, presiding over a feast with no guests. The angles of his face were sharp, almost hungry; the edges framed by dark, aristocratic-length hair that fell in waves to his shoulders. “Ah,” he said calmly as Elijah stopped, framed by the high doorway. “You’re awake, then.”

“Yes,” Elijah answered, was surprised by the sound of his own voice.

“You must be hungry, then.” The man gestured to a chair, nodded an invitation to sit. “Please, make yourself at home. My name is Viggo,” a pause, the slight mockery of a smile, “and I am your host.”

“Elijah,” he replied, blinking in the light from the fireplace and the ornate candelabras. “I’m Elijah.” His eyes were fixed on the food, his stomach rumbling in sudden urgency as it, too, was awakened from long sleep. Then he looked back up at his host, at the pale smoothness of his skin and the elasticity of his movements. “You’re a vampire,” he stated wonderingly.

“Yes,” Viggo affirmed gravely, his sharp eyes never leaving Elijah’s. And then, in a moment that seemed to stretch out forever; “as are you.”

The world dropped out from under him, spun dizzily and infected him with light and sound and smell, and his eyes closed as the blurred memories of the past fell into place. He remembered now; the slums, the bodies…the blood.

Perhaps he had never really forgotten.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

He opened his eyes to see Viggo studying him, but the other only shook his head. “I don’t know. It happens, sometimes. Orphans.”

Elijah felt the world tilt again, wondered if it was shock or hunger that was making his head spin. He reached out for the sturdy, straight back of the chair, pulled himself into it and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t remember.”

That was only half a lie; the memories of his time before this came only in flickers, fading in and out and bringing no understanding or clarity with them. The words ‘mortal’ and ‘human’ hurt to think about. The others didn’t bear contemplation.

Viggo was silent, and Elijah took a moment to catch his breath and clear his head. He felt a prick of pain when he thought of killing, but it was somewhat muted by the practical knowledge of his current situation. Survival was what mattered, here and now. He looked up when he felt ready, met Viggo’s eyes. “Where am I?” he inquired, even though he couldn’t remember where he had come from, where he had been before this. When he had been human.

“My demesne,” Viggo replied. “In my chateau, under my protection.”

Elijah nodded acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

Viggo smiled. “It wasn’t only me. You had several champions.” He gestured towards the food, piled high on exotic painted trays. “You should eat.”

Elijah gratefully reached for a platter, his stomach now settled again and clenching with hunger. “I didn’t know that vampires ate,” he said softly, throwing a quick glance at Viggo as he took portions of various dishes.

Viggo lifted a crystal decanter, toying with it in his hand before sipping. “We do,” he replied, rolling the smooth glass between white fingers. “We need nourishment and protein as often as we need to drink.” He watched Elijah’s eyes as he spoke, as if considering the effect his words would have.

Elijah didn’t flinch, determined to appear in control before this unknown immortal being. He would show no weakness. The word ‘drink’ made his stomach twist, and he was ashamed that only part of the jump was queasiness. The thought of blood should have made him sick. Instead, it awoke dim memories of taste and smell and a pleasant warmth.

Viggo looked about to speak again when his eyes suddenly moved past Elijah to the end of the table, the doorway. “And this,” he said affectionately, “is one of your saviors.”

Elijah’s eyes darted to the doorway; fixed on the young man who stood there, quietly watching him. The firelight danced in his hair, lit sparks in the depths of brown eyes. Elijah’s breath caught in his throat, and he remained motionless until Viggo’s voice cut through his paralysis.

“Elijah, this is Orlando. He’s the reason you’re here, in such excellent health.”

Orlando’s lips curved in a smile, and his head inclined almost imperceptibly in Elijah’s direction. Humor and mischief danced in his eyes, striking a chord with something in Elijah’s soul.

“Thank you,” Elijah whispered, mesmerized by the play of light over Orlando’s face, the glimpse of his chest at the collar of his half-opened shirt, his bared throat.

“You’re welcome,” Orlando returned, with just a hint of mockery, and moved to take the seat across from Elijah. He moved like a cat, all feline predatory grace and a trace of smug arrogance. Elijah unconsciously licked his lips, caught himself after he did so and blushed furiously at Orlando’s creeping smile.

“Please,” he stammered, trying to recover smoothly, offering Orlando the platter of roasted chicken. Viggo’s hand forestalled him.

“Orlando doesn’t eat meat,” Viggo informed him fondly, eyes drinking in the young man lounging at his table. “He leaves that to me.”

Orlando chuckled and reached to pluck a pear from a gold-gilded bowl of fruit, dark eyes fixing again on Elijah.

“You’re human,” Elijah breathed, not really surprised but still questioning. Orlando’s grin widened, and he took a bite of the pear, sucking the flesh into his mouth and licking at the trail of juice that ran down the side.

“Yes,” Viggo answered dryly, evidently amused by the display. “Orlando is something of a thrill seeker, the kind of person vampires occasionally take as a companion.” He met Elijah’s eyes, showing only warmth and patience. “You’ll meet others like him, one day, if you travel outside of this demesne.”

Orlando twirled the pear by its stem between his forefinger and thumb, eyes locked on Elijah as he leaned in to take another bite, lips pursed suggestively over the skin of the fruit. Elijah swallowed and looked away.

Orlando laughed.

 

~*~

 

Elijah crept down the stairs, disturbed from restless dreams of fruit and flesh and laughing brown eyes, wandering aimlessly through the chateau. It was silent; all of the servants long since gone to bed, Viggo and Orlando undoubtedly retired to wherever it was that they slept.

Elijah’s eyes were drawn to the flickering light spilling from the study into the hallway. He remembered shelves of books, a couch…perhaps reading would help him to banish the dreams and send him back into sleep.

He was nearly there when a voice touched his ears from inside the study, soft and teasing. He knew that voice; it was the one that had haunted his dreams for the past week. Without thinking he pressed against the cold wall, creeping along towards the illuminated portal of the doorway, listening to the rustling and the murmur of voices. His eyes adjusted to the light quickly enough, another few inches granting him a view of the scene.

Orlando sat astride Viggo in the massive armchair by the fire, running his hands through the vampire’s dark hair. His shirt billowed open, jerkin and cravat long since discarded. Viggo’s hand rested on his trousers, cupping his groin, and Orlando rocked gently against the vampire as they spoke, pushing rhythmically into Viggo’s fingers.

Elijah’s own fingers twitched; strayed between his legs. That part of his body was cold and still, even as the rest of him flamed into arousal. His hand wrapped around it, thumb rubbing lightly over unresponsive flesh.

“Did you kill tonight?” he heard Orlando whisper, dropping light kisses along Viggo’s hairline, eyelids fluttering as he moved.

“You know I did,” Viggo responded softly, his other arm reaching to curve against Orlando’s back, supporting him and guiding his movements.

Orlando moaned, his head falling back, curls parting to reveal the exquisite curve of his throat. “Tell me.”

Elijah heard the rasp of his own breathing; blinked rapidly as a stray lock of hair tickled his eyelid. His fingers moved in slow strokes, caressing and encouraging, but the thing in his hand remained lifeless. Without thinking, he edged closer to the study, straining to see in the light from the fire.

Viggo smiled, fingers curving to apply more pressure, bending his head to taste the skin of Orlando’s chest. “He was nothing like you, child,” Viggo murmured, raising his voice slightly to be heard over Orlando’s resulting whimper and gasp of pleasure, delicately licking a path across Orlando’s torso. “Unpolished quartz and dandelions. You…” Flash of teeth as they grazed a dark nipple. “You are diamonds and honeysuckle.” His fingers flexed, encouraging Orlando’s movements as they grew more erratic, desperate, and Viggo’s mouth found its way up the slender column of Orlando’s throat. Another flash, white against tan, and Orlando cried out, his whole body going rigid as Viggo struck.

Elijah forgot to breathe.

“Mine,” Orlando whispered as he relaxed, curling limbs around Viggo’s body as the vampire lifted his head, lips dark with stolen blood. “Mine, mine.”

Elijah backed away silently, and returned to the solitude of his room, fingers slipping from between his legs.

His hand came away cold.

 

~*~

 

Elijah was growing more skilled at hunting. He enjoyed it now, thought of it as a challenge and an art rather than the crudity of feeding. Sometimes he went with Viggo, sometimes alone. And always he returned thinking of Orlando, of lips on his skin whispering “Tell me.”

He tried to hide it from Viggo, kept his distance and remained as polite as possible to both of them. It didn’t help that Orlando was as fixated on him as a cobra, predatory and hypnotic. Every night Elijah woke exhausted from dreams of Orlando as his mortal lover, and every dawn he fell asleep pondering the impossibility of such a union. Even if Viggo would allow it, it seemed that Elijah’s immortal body would not.

That didn’t stop the dreams.

But the hunting was good, and Elijah wasn’t ready to lose Viggo’s companionship and guidance yet. He wasn’t certain of how long he should stay, unsure of the rules regarding immortals to whom sanctuary had been granted. And he didn’t have anywhere else to go.  
He brought it up one night after hunting, returning to the chateau sated on the blood of a man who had been beating his children.

“Is it your job?” Elijah asked, licking his lips as if he could taste the memory of the blood. “To kill those who threaten the peace of your demesne?”

“It’s part of my responsibility, yes.” Viggo didn’t seem to mind talking about it, gave Elijah only a cursory glance before he replied. “That’s what it means to hold a protected demesne. I am the protector of the people, as well as the authority they must answer to.”

“How did you end up here?” Elijah inquired, deciding that it was as good a time as any to ask questions. “Was this a demesne before you arrived?”

Viggo’s look said that he knew Elijah was fishing impolitely for information, but he answered anyway. “No. It shared a border with another demesne, but I was the first to claim this territory.” He smiled, the tips of his canines glinting in the moonlight. “And I have held it ever since.”

“Have others challenged you?” Elijah asked, amazed. “Have you had to defend it?”

Viggo’s smile reminded Elijah of hungry wolves. “Of course. But I have never lost, and they have never won.”

“How old are you?” Elijah breathed. For the first time, he thought to consider what immortality could mean.

Viggo’s glance this time was amused. “Full of questions tonight, aren’t we?”

Elijah blushed, chastened, and looked at the ground that passed beneath his feet as they walked. “I forget sometimes,” he admitted finally, whisper-soft. “I forget what I am.”

Viggo’s eyes were on him, steady and knowing. “Ah, but which is worse?” he asked. “When you forget, or when you remember?”

Visions of blood, of abandoned bodies…of someone who had held him in her arms and sung him to sleep.

Elijah shook his head. There was no way to answer that.

After a moment Viggo spoke again. “Why all the questions, young one?”

Elijah shrugged, looked up warily and changed the subject. “I just didn’t know how long I could stay.”

“Ah.” Viggo’s voice hinted that he’d been anticipating this, his eyes warm and understanding when they glanced again at Elijah. “Normally, once you returned to health you would be expected to move on,” he said. “No demesne is really large enough to support more than one vampire for any length of time. However,” he stressed, “You are an exception to that rule. The province adjacent to my demesne is yours, should you choose it; but you are free to stay as long as Orlando wishes.”

Elijah lost his line of inquiry, startled into letting his confusion show openly. “Orlando?”

Viggo nodded and smiled, gestured for Elijah to turn into a side alley that led to the main road. “I kept you for him. In fact, I had been rather hoping that someone like you would show up.”

“Why?” Elijah asked, wide-eyed. “Why someone like me?”

“Because he’s lonely,” Viggo answered calmly, ignoring Elijah’s thrill and suspicion. “And you’re young, and exciting, and new.”

“I thought…” Elijah spoke up hesitantly, uncertain as to whether or not he was crossing the line dictated by courtesy. “I thought that he was yours.”

Viggo grinned again, a glimpse of sharp white teeth. “He is. As is everything else in my demesne. But I don’t own him. Companionship is very different from possession. And I would never hold him if he chose to leave.”

“He’s your lover,” Elijah said without thinking; immediately regretted it.

Viggo only laughed, a deep rumbling chuckle. “Yes, he is. And that is why.”

Elijah thought about his words, considered how to phrase his next question. “But I thought we couldn’t…”

“We can’t,” Viggo confirmed, smile hinting that he was enjoying Elijah’s discomfort.

“Then how?” Elijah asked bluntly, suddenly unwilling to be made sport of.

A gleaming smile, a rustle in the darkness as they disturbed a nest of rats. “It’s another kind of pleasure.”

“I don’t understand,” Elijah finally admitted quietly, as they reached the gates of the chateau.

“Not yet, no,” Viggo agreed genially. “But you will.”


	3. Diphylla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Trudy and Cyndi for editing.

Part Three – Elijah

 

The Solstice Festival was the first in Elijah’s memory, which teased him with fragments of his former life but nothing coherent. Orlando was practically glowing with energy, picking clothing and decorations and entrees with an enthusiasm that Elijah couldn’t resist being caught up in.

“So this is it,” Elijah commented to himself, watching from the balcony as the guests came in and made their way down the grand hall, which was decked with garlands of winter berries and evergreens, to the brightly lit ballroom.

“Mmmm,” someone concurred behind him, and Elijah’s heartbeat thudded as Orlando’s arms wound around him, warm and solid. “Yes, it is.” Delicate breathy laughter against his cheek, and Elijah could smell the blood beneath Orlando’s tan skin. “So why are you hiding up here?”

Elijah closed his eyes; wondered if Orlando could feel the change in his heart rate, his breathing. “I was about to go down.”

“I’ll bet you were.” Orlando’s lips just brushed Elijah’s ear, teasing and promising. “Come on, then.”

The anticipation of such an event was nothing compared to the reality. Elijah found himself swept along by the current of people, losing himself in the noise and the light and the colours, forgetting that he wasn’t human while at the same time being fascinated by the differences between himself and Viggo’s mortal guests.

Orlando taunted him into dancing with one of the young ladies, and then the night became a whirlwind of partners and vivid ball gowns and music.

Until he turned to find a new partner and came face-to-face with another vampire.

She was dressed in black, dripping with finely-woven bobbin lace and jewels, and her hair was piled into a careless fontange with tiny gems woven through the netting. The bones of her face were sharp through the skin, her eyes slanted catlike and intent.

“Well hello there,” she purred, and Elijah instinctively took a step back. He had never come across another vampire besides Viggo, but this one felt threatening. He pulled himself up to his full height as she took a step in to counter his movement, the hem of her skirt brushing his ankles.

“Olivia,” a familiar voice came from behind him, and Elijah relaxed automatically, although the warning in Viggo’s tone kept him on guard.

The unknown vampire smiled, although the expression looked more to Elijah like a wild animal baring its teeth. “Viggo. I must say I’m surprised to see one of our kind at your celebration.” She looked pointedly at Elijah, as if measuring his worth. “Particularly one so young.”

“He is here under my protection, Olivia,” Viggo said softly, and Elijah shivered at the chill in his voice. “He has been granted sanctuary.”

“I see,” Olivia replied, her eyes sharp and at odds with the soft femininity of her voice. “Only you, Viggo, would think to bring an orphan into a protected demesne.”

“It is my demesne,” Viggo pointed out graciously, but there was steel behind the words. “And it is more than capable of supporting us both, for now.”

Olivia smiled, gave Elijah a final predatory once-over. “See then that you stay within your borders,” she warned, and melted back into the crowd.

Elijah let out a breath of air, stunned by the emotions he had felt radiating from the other vampire. “She hates you,” he said simply, amazed that she would dare.

“Olivia and I have had our differences,” Viggo agreed, taking Elijah’s arm and drawing him towards the edge of the dance floor. “It is her demesne that shares a border with mine. And I fear we have always wanted the same territory.” He was looking out over the ballroom, and Elijah followed his gaze to where Orlando stood, talking animatedly with several other young men. “Even,” he continued softly, “When that territory has already been claimed.”

Elijah caught sight of Olivia, standing alone on the far side of the ballroom, the crowd unconsciously parting around her to give her space. He shivered, fear suddenly spiking at the thought of that woman near Orlando.

“He should go,” Viggo murmured, echoing Elijah’s thoughts. “But I would never send him away from this. He loves it too much.” His eyes refocused, sharpened once more on Olivia. “We can, however, stay near him.” He made his way through the chattering throngs of people, greeting his guests and making polite conversation on the way, Elijah trailing behind, feeling out of place and uneasy.

Viggo smiled at Orlando when they reached him, on one side of the room teasing a wide-eyed girl held in her mother’s arms. “Orlando,” Viggo hailed him cheerfully, coming close and slipping an arm possessively around the young man’s waist. “Stop being such a shameless flirt.” He turned his attention to his guests and smiled charmingly. “A thousand pardons, mademoiselle,” Viggo told the child gravely. “Sometimes he’s just impossible.”

The girl’s mother laughed and the child smiled, sweet and uncomprehending, and from across the room Elijah could feel Olivia’s stare.

 

~*~

 

Elijah was just drifting into sleep when the door to his room creaked open and Orlando came in. It was nearly dawn; Viggo had sent the guests on their way well-fed and tipsy, full of goodwill towards the master of their demesne.

“Orlando?” Elijah asked softly, his eyes barely able to make out the slender silhouette against his wall. “What are you doing in here?”

“Shhh…” and then there was a soft, warm body wrapping around Elijah’s, smelling of perfume and wine and blood, heady and intoxicating. Orlando’s mouth settled somewhere near Elijah’s ear, one arm curled across his chest. “Viggo asked me to stay with you. He doesn’t want either of us to be alone, with Liv still so close.” His voice was relaxed, trusting. “She’s tried things in the past. It’s nothing, really, he just wants us to be safe.”

Elijah nodded, his heart once again beating faster. Orlando’s breath tickled Elijah’s skin, and a sharp pang of hunger and desire made Elijah’s breath catch. He lay quite still for a few minutes, until Orlando’s voice reached him out of the darkness.

“Elijah,” he whispered, soft and seductive. “Do you want me to teach you how to kiss?”

Confusion and arousal mingled, sharpened his awareness of Orlando’s lithe body stretched out against his. “I already know how,” he responded, but that didn’t preclude the question in his voice.

“Ah, you know how mortals kiss, but immortals?” Gentle pressure of lips against his arm, fingers slipping beneath his loose shirt.

“It’s different?” Elijah whispered, hating the breathiness of his tone. He could smell Orlando, could practically taste the blood on his tongue.

“Mmmm.” Orlando’s tongue flicked open against his shoulder. “There are two kinds of kisses.” He shifted, moving closer until Elijah could feel the heat from Orlando’s body against his own. Elijah’s head turned, catching the glitter of Orlando’s eyes. “The first you already know, but…ah…” Orlando pulled back just as Elijah’s parted lips found his, teasing fingers running over Elijah’s mouth. “Eyes open,” Orlando whispered, and Elijah watched, mesmerized; “Lips closed.”

Then Elijah felt the warmth return, the pressure of Orlando’s mouth on his, and he whimpered softly. Orlando’s laughter reverberated through his lips, his face, his entire body, and then Elijah was on top of him, forcing Orlando back against the cool satin as their mouths brushed and rubbed. His eyelids drooped shut again, but he caught himself and opened them only to see crisp delight in Orlando’s eyes.

“What’s the second?” Elijah asked when he pulled away, lips nuzzling against the smooth skin of Orlando’s cheek, tracing down his jaw.

“Oh, that one you know as well,” Orlando replied, still laughing, and tilted his head back so that Elijah’s lips rested on his throat. “Or at least have an idea of.”

Elijah stilled, the pulse beneath Orlando’s skin driving him crazy, but not yet lost to caution. “I’ll hurt you.”

“No, you won’t. We’ve done this before, you and I, although the circumstances were different.” Orlando’s words made the vocal folds in his throat tremble; maddening vibration against Elijah’s lips. “Just don’t take too much. Sometimes Vig gets a little rough and I can’t walk for days.”

Elijah murmured acknowledgement of the caution, still doing battle with his own reluctance. “How do I make it good for you?” he whispered, the heat and intimacy making his body throb.

Orlando’s hand found Elijah’s, placed it between his legs. “It will be,” Orlando promised, as Elijah’s fingers wrapped around him and stroked gently, tentative. “Just…oh god, yes…just wait until…mmm…”

Elijah smiled, extended his tongue to lave Orlando’s salty skin. Orlando gasped beneath him, hips pushing up into the contact. “Elijah, ’Lij,” he whispered as Elijah touched him, and Elijah’s lips found the perfect spot, right where the vein throbbed and Orlando’s pulse beat frantically against Elijah’s mouth.

Elijah squeezed harder, and Orlando cried out, body shaking uncontrollably; “Now, ’Lij, now!”

And Elijah’s teeth sank into the skin of Orlando’s throat.

 

~*~

 

“Where are you going?”

Orlando’s eyes caught Elijah’s in the mirror, and he smiled reassuringly. “Just out with some friends.” His fingers smoothed the wrinkles out of a pair of loose-fitting galligaskins, eyes back on his reflection. “You could come if you’d like.”

Elijah sank back into his nest of purple satin, watching Orlando dress efficiently. “They would be afraid of me,” he offered softly, following the movement of Orlando’s deft fingers as he pulled a shirt over his head.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Orlando pointed out; white flash of teeth as he smiled.

Elijah wanted to say that Orlando wasn’t afraid of anything – that he lived without fear – but his thoughts snagged on Olivia. “What did you mean, the other night?” he asked, as Orlando threaded the laces of his doublet; royal blue with slashed sleeves. Elijah could see the fabric of Orlando’s shirt flicker through as his arms moved. “When you said that she’d tried things.”

Orlando frowned at him in the mirror, brow wrinkling slightly. “Who, Liv?” At Elijah’s nod he shrugged. “It was a few years ago, when she first started disputing the border. Pass me the…”

Elijah dutifully handed him the blue cravat, heart still thrilling slightly at the brush of Orlando’s warm fingers against his. “What happened?” Elijah asked, one arm wrapping around a pillow while the other propped him up, chin against the heel of his hand.

“Oh, lots of little things. Violated hunting rights, terrorizing border guards, infringement of minor demesne laws. That sort of thing.” Orlando’s fingers fumbled with the knot; Elijah slipped from his cocoon to assist.

“What stopped her?” Elijah asked, barely breathing as he pressed against Orlando’s back, holding him in a loose embrace while he tugged and looped the cravat.

Orlando’s eyes had drifted to half-mast; he watched Elijah in the mirror and didn’t interfere. “Viggo. He set fire to some of her outbuildings. And to her favorite basilica, after she…” He drifted off, one eyebrow raised as Elijah’s fingers tangled the fabric and he started over.

“After she what?” Elijah pressed, his fingers smoothing the soft shirt collar.

“After she drained me,” Orlando whispered, and his eyes were so dark now that Elijah couldn’t see into them.

Elijah stilled, fingers still loosely framing Orlando’s throat. He was acutely aware of Orlando breathing against him; shallow inhalations that pressed his body closer to Elijah’s. “You lived,” he observed needlessly, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Orlando nodded, a brush of dark curls against Elijah’s cheek. “Barely.”

Elijah looked away from the mirror, unable to meet Orlando’s eyes and face whatever emotions were lurking in them. “How can you?” he asked softly. “How can you, after she…”

“Because Viggo isn’t Liv,” Orlando returned calmly, making no move to take the cravat or move from within the circle of Elijah’s arms. “Neither are you.” Elijah finally looked back into the mirror; saw Orlando’s reflection studying him. “And Vig won’t allow it to happen again.”

Something twisted in Elijah’s stomach, black and charcoal-bitter. “You love him.”

Orlando didn’t answer, but Elijah wasn’t listening anyway. His guilt only lasted a moment before his mind was replaying what Orlando had said about Olivia. Had she held him like this? Taken him from behind, with no warning? Cradled him to her while she took his lifeblood?

Loved him?

His eyes fastened on the silken column of Orlando’s throat, still bared and waiting for the cravat to hide it. Elijah was still warm from an offering of Orlando’s blood, but he was nowhere near sated. Orlando’s heartbeat thrummed against him; Elijah could feel it in his chest. His eyes glazed slightly, unfocused and yet hyperaware of the naked skin above Orlando’s collar, shaded by the piq-devant goatee.

“Elijah,” Orlando said quietly, and Elijah snapped out of his trance. He tried to take a step backwards and away, to hide his shame from those knowing eyes, but Orlando’s hand caught his wrist and held him in place.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said helplessly, shaking his head and keeping his gaze fixed on the safety of the rug.

Orlando chuckled, low in his throat. “It’s okay,” he assured. “I’ve just learned to recognize that look.” His fingers prompted Elijah to continue tying the cravat; which he did, although somewhat more shakily than before.

“There, that’s better,” Orlando announced, his fingers over Elijah’s tugging the cravat snugly into place. He reached for a ribbon to tie back his hair, and Elijah’s arms slipped reluctantly over Orlando’s shoulders to rest on his spine.

“Aren’t you ever afraid?” Elijah whispered to the mirror, seeing his own eyes, wide and more-than-human, in the glass.

“Not of this,” Orlando answered, and turned to capture Elijah’s lips; brief and sweet. “Not anymore.”

But Elijah’s fingers felt the tremble that shivered up Orlando’s spine, even as he moved out of Elijah’s embrace.


	4. Desmodus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Trudy and Cyndi for editing.

Part Four – Dominic

 

Dominic had kept his distance from the chateau, trusting that Viggo would keep his word, but when he’d seen the boy again at the Solstice Festival his fascination had returned. The beautiful young man, Orlando, had been there as well; had caught Dominic watching and whispered an introduction into his ear.

_“His name’s Elijah.”_

So now Dominic was here at the chateau, nervously waiting in the study as John went to fetch the young master of the house. He found himself staring at the couch, remembering Elijah lying waxen and bloodless, Orlando kneeling on the floor like a saint or a martyr.

“Hello again,” someone said from the doorway, and Dominic started, turned to see Orlando lounging against the frame.

“Hello,” he responded automatically, waited to see what Orlando would say. “I came to see Elijah.”

“Of course you did,” Orlando answered, all charm. “He’ll be here shortly.”

“Thank you,” Dominic replied; didn’t know exactly where to go from there. Orlando stretched slowly, the fabric of his shirt rippling with the movement, and walked leisurely over to drape himself across an armchair by the fire. Dominic watched with wide eyes and parted lips, feeling as if he’d unwittingly stepped into the lion’s den.

The firelight painted Orlando in earth tones, warm and alive, bronzing the skin of his hands. His throat was hidden by a gold cravat. Dominic didn’t know whether he was disappointed or relieved; wondered if there were marks on his neck from a bite.

Wondered if those marks would be Elijah’s.

“Elijah,” Orlando said suddenly, and Dominic jerked his eyes up guiltily, sure that Orlando had read his thoughts. But Orlando was looking away from him, and when Dominic followed his gaze he realized that they were no longer alone.

“Elijah,” Dominic echoed, and it was more of an exhalation than an actual word. He pulled himself together, reined in his composure. “It’s a pleasure to actually meet you. My name is Dominic.”

“Dominic,” Elijah repeated, studying him with quizzical interest. He was nearly as pale as the day Dominic had first seen him; carved ivory. The firelight didn’t warm him as it did Orlando, highlighted him instead in white and black. “I remember you.”

Dominic had the sudden, nonsensical urge to smile. “I didn’t think you would.”

“What are you doing here?” The question wasn’t cold, merely curious. Dominic blinked, thought about what would be considered a suitable answer.

“I just came to check on you,” he admitted finally, choking back the words of immortality and possession and belonging that melted like thick honey over his tongue. “I promised you that I would.”

Elijah’s face said that he didn’t remember, but Dominic hadn’t really expected it. “Thank you,” he replied politely. “I’m fine.”

Dominic realized that he should leave it at that, consider himself dismissed and leave this chateau for good, but something compelled him desperately to continue. “So you’re one of them now?” he asked; hated himself immediately for the inanity.

Elijah blinked slowly, eerily still with the firelight flickering over his face. “Yes,” he answered quietly. “I suppose I am.”

Dominic gave up, allowed himself one more moment of looking at Elijah before he turned to go.

“I never thanked you for rescuing me,” Elijah said suddenly, and Dominic turned back, found himself snared by bottomless blue eyes.

“You don’t have to,” he answered honestly. And added, because he felt bold and really had nothing to lose; “Seeing you is enough.”

Elijah’s lips parted slightly; not enough that Dominic could see the proof of his non-humanity. He was strange and exotic and oddly childlike, an immortal innocent, and Dominic closed his eyes against the surge of emotion and desire.

He moved again to leave, but a forgotten voice snared him, curled around him warm and promising.

“Dominic,” Orlando called quietly. “Stay.”

 

~*~

 

Dominic wasn’t sure quite what was going on, why he was being pressed back onto the couch by Orlando while Elijah still stood in the doorway, watching them. Orlando was warm from the fire, rich and golden, kissing Dominic’s eyes closed with soft brushes of his lips. Some part of him whispered that this was what he had come for, why he was here, but the rest of him knew only a name.

“Stop thinking,” Orlando whispered, and Dominic’s eyes fluttered open again, fixing on Elijah. He felt a sigh, and then Orlando sat up on the couch, straddling Dominic’s hips, and extended a hand. “Come here, ’Lij,” he invited, and Dominic’s heart stuttered as Elijah moved, walked as if in a trance to meet them, gaze still locked with Dominic’s.

Dominic stopped breathing when Elijah looked away, when his hands came up to run through Orlando’s curls, when their lips met in a kiss that was almost chaste but for the heat in it. One of Orlando’s hands came up to touch Elijah’s cheek; the other smoothed Dominic’s shirt over his chest.

“Do you want this?” Orlando asked quietly as his lips wandered over Elijah’s marble face. Elijah nodded, eyes closed, fingers idly twisting and tangling in Orlando’s hair. Dominic’s eyes darted between them, finally came to rest on Orlando as he leaned down to brush Dominic’s lips with his own, his free hand still resting on Elijah’s arm.

“We shouldn’t,” Dominic protested half-heartedly, mesmerized by the feel of Orlando’s skin.

“Oh, but we should,” Orlando argued, and swooped in for a kiss that made Dominic moan and curl into him, hands sliding beneath Orlando’s shirt to feel the warm body beneath.

Dominic concentrated on undressing Orlando, who was enthusiastically reciprocating his attentions, but broke away after a moment when he remembered the other presence standing beside them. He held out a hand for Elijah, wondering how the three of them were to manage this on the couch, but Elijah only shook his head and smiled, a little sadly.

“I can’t,” he explained; clarified, “ _We_ can’t.”

Dominic opened his mouth to inquire; caught Elijah’s meaning a moment later. “Oh,” he said, foolishly, and then lay still and silent beneath Orlando, not sure of what to do.

Elijah sighed, turned his smile on Orlando, and then the two of them were kissing again, lips closed but still flowing into each other and staring into each other’s eyes, erotic and intimate, and the desire that Elijah’s confession had extinguished suddenly blazed in his groin. Orlando laughed into his kiss, and one of his hands wandered to cup Dominic through his unfastened trousers.

“Shall we continue?” his voice whispered suddenly in Dominic’s ear, and Dominic reached to reclaim those lips, to have his mouth plundered by Orlando’s eager tongue.

He felt Elijah join them a second later, cool fingers stroking over his exposed skin where the shirt had fallen away, and murmured his appreciation into Orlando’s mouth. Warmer, human fingers cupped his face and tilted his head to allow better access for Orlando’s hot mouth, and then Orlando moaned suddenly and his body tightened against Dominic’s at the same time that Dominic felt a cold hand slip into his pants and curl around him.

“Elijah,” one of them whispered, and then Dominic lost himself in Orlando’s kiss, fingers stroking over whatever skin he could reach; some human, some vampiric. He could tell by the shift in Orlando’s breathing that Elijah was touching them both, was bringing them together even as he remained detached.

He felt Orlando break away, turning his head to rest his cheek against Dominic’s as he panted softly; heard the words, “Which one of us do you want, ’Lij?” breathed over his skin.

“Both,” he heard Elijah whisper in return, felt cool lips touch his shoulder softly. “I want you both.”

“You have us,” Orlando answered, and Dominic clenched suddenly, felt release bubbling up inside of him. “But you have to take…” and then he gasped, and Dominic knew that Orlando was as close as he was; “Take one of us, this time…”

Dominic realized what Orlando meant a fraction of a second later, flinched involuntarily from the thought and presence of sharp teeth, but it didn’t matter because Elijah was pressed against Orlando’s throat, not his, and he heard Orlando cry out sharply just as his own body flooded with release.

When Elijah pulled away his lips were red, his skin flushed pink, the blue of his irises bright and shimmering. “It’s all right,” he whispered, and Dominic’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of blood-warmed lips against his. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

Dominic opened his eyes, drowned in Elijah’s gaze. “I’m not.” He ran a finger over Elijah’s darkened mouth, caught the curve of his smile. There was nothing of death in Elijah now, only an intelligence and beauty that would last, unchanging, for eternity. The idea of possessing immortality in such a form was a temptation that made Dominic struggle for breath.

“I never will be.”

 

~*~

 

Dominic felt drawn to the chateau like a moth to a flame, found himself lost in thought, staring up at it more nights than he could count. He saw Elijah now and then from a distance, as he and Viggo went out to hunt; saw Orlando during the day, bright and dazzling as the sun. He forced himself to keep his distance, not to approach either of them until he felt sure of what he wanted.

Two weeks after his night at the chateau, he made up his mind.

John answered the door, appearing ready to sneer down at the dirty peasant who had returned to disturb his household, but Elijah was already on the stairs, smiling a welcome. “Dominic,” he said simply, and John sketched what may have been a bow in Elijah’s direction before retreating to the kitchen.

“Elijah,” he returned, and then they stood there smiling at each other for what felt like an eternity before Elijah moved to break the spell.

“Dominic…” he began, but Dominic was determined to have his say before Elijah changed his mind.

“I want you to take me,” he said plainly, saw Elijah go still and shocked. “The way you do Orlando.”

“I couldn’t…” Elijah started, but once again Dominic cut him off.

“I know what he is,” he argued. “I’ve seen the marks, I’ve watched you feed on him.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself and fighting the fear that was still rising in his throat to choke him. “You don’t have to kill.”

Elijah was still again, eyes seeing through to Dominic’s soul. “No, we don’t.”

Dominic swallowed, strengthened his resolve. The need to cement himself to Elijah was more insistent now that he had taken the first step; the pressure to become, for a moment, as perpetual as a vampire himself. “Do it, then,” he urged. “Do it to me.”

Elijah came down the last few steps, until he was on the same level with Dominic, only a few feet away. “I’ve never done it to anyone else,” he said softly. “To anyone who hasn’t done it before.”

Dominic closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them Elijah was still there, beautiful and immortal. “I trust you,” he whispered.

Elijah was so still that Dominic wondered wildly if he was still breathing; if he had transformed in a moment to a marble statue. Then; “will you take me away from here?” Elijah asked, childlike lips slowly forming the words.

Dominic wasn’t sure of what the correct answer was, but he knew what he wanted it to be. “Yes,” he promised, and held his breath.

Elijah nodded, offered a marble-white hand.

Dominic took it.

 

~*~

 

It was different this time, more intimate with only the two of them. While he missed Orlando’s warmth, he was perversely glad to have Elijah’s complete attention, to bask in the light of that eerie blue stare. Elijah’s hands feathered over him; learning his body and his responses, smiling a little whenever Dominic gasped or made a sound.

Dominic kept his eyes open, fixed on Elijah; not wanting to miss a moment of this experience. There was still a knot in his stomach at the thought that something could go wrong, that this could be the first and last time he joined with a vampire, but oddly enough the thought only added to his excitement. He would die having known this, in a sacrifice to immortality.

Elijah’s eyes glanced down as he finally touched Dominic’s groin, flicked back up when Dominic whimpered, brightened in a smile. Dominic reached for him blindly, needing to feel Elijah against his skin, to experience the contrast of Elijah’s temperature against his entire body. Elijah pressed against him, hands still cleverly manipulating Dominic’s body as they shifted, and then there were cool lips on his, gentle fingers combing through his hair.

“Are you sure?” Elijah whispered, and Dominic nodded, answered Elijah with a smile and another lingering kiss. After a moment of exploration and sweet friction Elijah’s lips parted, and Dominic inhaled sharply; hesitantly met Elijah’s tongue with his own. Elijah gave him all the time he needed, coaxing Dominic gently into his mouth, and then Dominic’s tongue was running over the sharp points of Elijah’s canines, and he groaned, pulling Elijah closer. He was more excited than frightened now, and intrigued at feeling those tiny needle-sharp teeth, the ones that would be inside of him.

He pressed a little too hard and felt a stab of pain as one of Elijah’s canines pricked his tongue, and then heard Elijah moan as his own tongue swept out to lick up the spilled blood. “Now,” Dominic whispered when they pulled apart, meeting Elijah’s eyes without a single feeling of hesitation. “Do it now.”

Elijah smiled and kissed him again briefly, his hand moving faster over Dominic’s body, and just as Dominic was about to climax he felt the press of Elijah’s cold lips against his throat, and that pushed him over the edge.

There was a momentary sting, and then a sharp pull mixed with pleasure as Elijah drank from him, warmth flooding his body and making him cry out. He understood now the look on Orlando’s face when Elijah had taken him, could feel his senses heightened and his world was reduced to the sweet pain and ecstasy of Elijah inside him, melting them together as his life’s essence was slowly drained away. He could hear his heart beat, sense the blood rushing through him to Elijah’s lips, and nearly laughed out loud at the twisted rapture his body was caught up in.

He knew he was blacking out when the world began to fade, when even his awareness of Elijah grew dim and fuzzy, but he had lost the ability to feel fear. He knew instinctively that Elijah could feel what he felt; and some distant part of him felt Elijah’s teeth leave his throat, pulling out of the skin and leaving him empty.

“Dominic,” he heard someone call, and he drifted for a while before focusing on the summons. “Dominic.”

He opened his eyes to see Elijah leaning over him, looking concerned but delighted at the same time, skin once more warm and tinged with pink. “Hey,” Elijah whispered, tracing a finger over Dominic’s lips. “Are you all right?”

Dominic did laugh this time, bright and bubbling over with joy. He reached out to stroke Elijah’s hair, caught a single strand and smoothed it like silk between his fingertips. Elijah watched him in amazement, eyes wide and wondering, a slow smile creeping out to answer the one on Dominic’s face.

“I’m fine,” Dominic decided, his breathing still uneven and choked with the pressure of nervous laughter. “When shall we leave?”

 

~*~

 

Dominic hovered in the background as Elijah walked into the study, came to stand respectfully in front of the armchair and the vampire who sat there reading over a letter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Orlando straighten and take notice, book dropping forgotten onto the couch.

“Viggo?” Elijah asked, waited until the other vampire raised his eyes and a single arched brow in inquiry. “I wanted to say thank you, for everything you’ve done for me.”

Viggo’s eyes flicked to Dominic and back to Elijah, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in the beginnings of a smile. “I take it you’re leaving?” he asked mildly, setting the letter down and folding his hands in his lap.

Elijah nodded, looking uncertain but determined. Dominic felt his heart jump a little in response. “I’m moving to the border province, if it is still being offered,” Elijah said softly, as Viggo waited silently for him to finish. “I thank you for your hospitality, but it is no longer necessary. I’m strong enough to be on my own now.”

“Are you now?” Viggo’s eyebrow quirked again, and his lips inched upwards. “Well, I suppose it’s time.” His gaze drifted to Orlando, who watched silently from the couch. He steepled his forefingers and tapped them against his chin. “And will you be taking anything with you?” he asked, deceptively soft, and Dominic tensed.

Elijah’s eyes met Orlando’s, and they shared a long look before Elijah turned back to Viggo. “Your territory is yours,” he replied calmly, and Dominic saw Orlando relax slightly, slump into the couch.

Viggo smiled, sharp but affectionate, and Dominic let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “So it is.”

Elijah inclined his head in a bow; hesitated as he turned to leave, eyes drawn back to the figure on the couch. Dominic looked as well, saw Orlando shake his head and smile, and whatever silent communication passed between them made Elijah smile as well, the tension leaving his body.

“Goodbye,” he said softly, and then those eyes were on Dominic, eternal blue, and there was a cool hand grasping his, drawing him from the room.

Neither of them looked back.


End file.
